


A priest, an opera singer, and a demon walk into a bar

by tangerinabina_de_archanea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Demon!Byleth - Freeform, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, I mean come on it's Manuela, Manuela goes to rehab, Multi, Pining, Slow(ish) Burn, the three of them are a package deal on fodlan amazon dot com. do not separate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinabina_de_archanea/pseuds/tangerinabina_de_archanea
Summary: One doesn’t get drunk at all, one gets alcohol poisoning, and one can’t remember the last time she had a drink.A story, told in vignettes, about life, love, and an accidental demon summoning.
Relationships: Manuela Casagranda/My Unit | Byleth, Manuela Casagranda/Seteth, Manuela Casagranda/Seteth/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 57
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY ALEXA!!! I didn't mean to make this so angsty but then the story just ran away with me FHJLSDKF I'm so glad that I met you!! You're such a funny, amazing, talented friend, and I know you're gonna go on to do great things!! I hope you had a wonderful birthday and that you enjoy this fic <3

“Tell me again how this happened?”

“I got drunk last night, I passed out after wishing I had some company, and when I woke up, it was there.”

“On the ceiling?”

"On the ceiling.”

Manuela’s apartment is, as usual, a wreck. However, that isn’t the most noticeable thing about that anymore. Oh, no, far from it.

The woman with curled horns and a tail on the ceiling is, understandably, a bit hard to miss, even among the mess, mostly because she’s on the ceiling, but also because she’s licking herself like a cat, which, as a general rule, most people, even people on the ceiling, don’t do. When she’s not doing that, she’s staring down at Manuela, the apartment’s owner, and Seteth, her exasperated neighbor and a priest of the Church of Seiros, with glowing eyes.

“So you mean to tell me that you somehow summoned a _demon_ whilst being blackout drunk?”

“That about sums it up, yes.”

Seteth takes off his glasses, rubbing them fiercely with a handkerchief. It’s a habit that he’s picked up when he’s not really sure what to say. “Manuela, every day you find new ways to astound me.”

“Aw, really? I’m touched, Seteth.”

She gives him a wink. He gives her a frown.

The demon on the ceiling accidentally drools a little as she stops to stare at them, and Seteth fairly shrieks when it drops on his head. Darting to the side, he puts his glasses back on and stares at her with an even deeper frown. “Why on earth did you call me over?”

“You’re a priest, aren’t you? Exorcise the damn thing! Get it out! If men were already scared of coming in here, imagine what they’ll say when they see _that_ on the ceiling!”

“Your chief concern is what men will think, and not the fact that you have a demon in your home?”

“Yes!”

“Unbelievable,” Seteth mutters. “Very well. I will do my best.”

“Rude,” the demon finally snaps. “I am not an ‘it.’ You should treat your guests better.”

Seteth and Manuela, to their embarrassment, both scream unfortunately loudly as they flee.

* * *

Three hours later, the demon is still on the ceiling, despite all of Seteth’s praying, invoking, and readings from the Book of Seiros.

“This is boring,” the demon says, licking the back of her hand and rubbing her forehead. “Why can’t we just hang out? That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Quiet,” Seteth snaps. “Manuela, I am at a loss. Maybe we can at least get her down.”

“Perhaps a broom?” Manuela suggests.

“Perhaps.”

The demon’s eyes light up at the mention of a broom.

It’s near impossible to find any sort of cleaning implement in Manuela’s apartment, and so Seteth makes the tired trek back to his own to fetch one, and returns. “This should do the trick.”

Predictably, it does not do the trick; instead, the demon bites the broom, and eats half of the bristles before Seteth yanks it away, utterly horrified.

“She _ate_ it?!” Manuela shrieks, staring at the neat bite mark taken out of the lime green plastic.

“She… ate it.” Seteth stares in disbelief at his broom, then back up at the demon, then back at the broom.

“It was delicious,” the demon giggles, but her blank expression doesn’t change. “Can I have more? I’m hungry.”

Sighing in defeat, Seteth surrenders the broom, and the demon somehow eats it all in two bites.

* * *

“Manuela, you are going to drive me to drink.” 

“You can come over and drink with us!”

Seteth just received the news that Manuela, after three weeks of trying to get rid of the demon (whose name they have now learned is Byleth), has decided that she wants her to stay, especially after learning that she (drunkenly) sold her soul to the demon in exchange for company. The fact that she doesn’t seem to want it back (“What good did it do me, anyways? I don’t even realize it’s gone!” she claims) is only the cherry on top.

He is not taking it well. Not in the slightest.

“I would prefer not to.”

“You’re no fun,” Byleth says, from where she is perched against Manuela’s shoulder. She no longer sits on the ceiling all the time (even if she still does occasionally, for fun, as she puts it). Instead, she prefers to float, often in contact with Manuela, if possible.

Manuela is _adoring_ the attention.

“Please, Seteth! If you got to know her, you would change your mind! She’s very sweet. I know that broom was special to you, but-”

“This is not about the broom,” Seteth sighs. “But yes, it was special to me.”

“I’ll buy you a new broom,” Byleth offers, but he shakes his head vehemently.

“Certainly not! I am a man of the cloth! I will not… _fraternize_ with demons!” With this, he slams the door of his apartment, and Manuela shrugs and walks back down the hall to hers.

“He really is no fun, isn’t he? And he’s so handsome, too… what a waste.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh, Seteth! I have a favor to ask you. Seteth? Come on, open up! Don’t keep a girl waiting!” 

With a groan, Seteth opens the door to find Manuela standing there, Byleth fairly glued to her shoulder, as per usual. “What do you want, Manuela?”

“So,” Manuela begins, twirling her hair around her finger. “So…”

“So?”

“I have a date tonight. Very handsome fellow. Strong. Works construction.”

“I see. May I ask what this has to do with me?”

“Well, I just have a teensy, eensy favor to ask.”

“Go on.”

“It’s just a small one! Nothing much!” She nearly yanks on her hair as she fidgets.

“Just tell me what it is, Manuela.”

“I…” The next words come out very quickly, almost indistinguishable from each other. “IneedyoutoletBylethstaywithyoutonight.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Just for a little while! I don’t expect that she’ll be staying the whole night.”

“I’ll behave. I promise,” Byleth adds.

“Why can’t you simply return to the Eternal Flames for the night? Why must I be involved in this?” Seteth sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Our contract doesn’t allow it. She specifically asked me to keep her company when she’s at home so that she doesn’t get lonely, and so I can’t leave this world unless I’m with her.”

“But why must it be _me_?”

“Really, Seteth, think about it,” Manuela says. “Do you want me to foist her off onto one of our other neighbors? Can you imagine if she was with Hanneman? Or the Nevrands? Or would you rather you, the priest specifically trained to handle demons, watch over her?”

Seteth takes his time contemplating, tapping his foot and crossing his arms as Manuela and Byleth look on expectantly. “I’m not sure if… Really, Manuela. This is… Oh, fine! I will watch her.”

“Oh, thank you Seteth!” Manuela launches herself forward and gives him a loud, wet kiss on the cheek, which he wipes at afterwards with a sniff and his handkerchief, smearing her orange lipstick all over. “You really are a darling!”

“I am simply doing my duty,” he grimaces. “Come, Byleth. May as well get this over with…”

“I’ll miss you, dear,” Manuela says, giving Byleth a hug before the demon lets go. “I’ll be by to fetch you later when we’re done, alright?”

“Alright. Good luck on your date, Manuela!” Byleth’s voice is encouraging, but still her expression does not change, nor does it change as she enters Seteth’s apartment and immediately starts looking around. “Huh. This is a lot cleaner than Manuela’s.”

“Undoubtedly so.”

“I wonder…” She knocks a box of cereal off the counter, staring down with intense interest as it spills everywhere.

“What are you doing?!”

She knocks down another box.

* * *

Seteth has never been good at texting. on the rare occasion that he does, he pecks at the keys like a bird, and even the shortest message takes at least a full minute for him to compose, both because of this and because of his insistence on strict adherence to the rules of grammar.

This being the case, Seteth much prefers to leave voicemails when necessary, and Manuela is very bad at listening to voicemails, and so they often collect in her inbox, gathering digital dust for months until she perhaps decides to sit down and listen to one or two. 

_9:35 PM_

_Manuela, come get Byleth at once- put that down! I swear, she is trying to make my home as messy as yours- BYLETH! No! Drop it! Manuela, I implore you, come get her now!_

_10:01 PM_

_Byleth has eaten my mop and my broom, and even had the gall to take a bite out of one of my towels. I sincerely hope you are willing to replace all three- yes, yes, you may as well finish eating it. Come get her as soon as you can, please._

_11:30 PM_

_Byleth and I have come to a bit of an understanding. I will still insist upon you replacing what she ate, but you no longer need to come get her._

Manuela, in fact, has already been home since 8:30, and in her misery over her handsome construction worker hastily excusing himself once he saw her apartment, utterly forgot Byleth and instead went inside and moped in her usual way: drinking. By 9 o’clock she was passed out, and not even the buzzing of her phone or the ruckus in the other apartment could wake her. 

She is still sleeping when, on the other side of the wall, Seteth leaves his final voicemail while he’s laying in bed, Byleth curled up next to him. She offered first to sleep on the ceiling, which he vehemently opposed, and then in his reclining chair, which he agreed to. She’d stayed there for a bit before he noticed how downright sickly she was starting to look, and when he asked her what was wrong, she explained that _technically_ she’s a succubus, and thus thrives on any kind of physical contact, hence why she’s always hanging onto Manuela. Without it she could get sick, or even possibly die, but she told him that she should be fine until she saw Manuela again in the morning. 

Seteth realized two things, those being: 

  1. Manuela would probably be hungover in the morning, and may not rise until noon, or later. 
  2. Even if he had technically only said that he would watch Byleth, he believed that taking care of her was an implied part of it, and he couldn’t live with himself if he gave back his neighbor’s demon unwell in any way, even if she was, you know, a demon.



Thus Seteth sighed and invited her to sleep in his bed, so that she wouldn’t waste away, and so here they are. It isn’t something he ever imagined himself doing, sharing a bed with a demon, but he must admit that it’s almost… nice. Not the demon part, of course, but she does fit very comfortably beneath the crook of his arm, and in the long years since his wife’s death he has missed having someone by his side at night, and really, when Byleth isn’t eating his cleaning supplies or knocking down his cereal she’s almost tolerable-

He puts a stop to that train of thought the moment where he realizes it’s going, just as he also put a stop to the train that once suggested he invite Manuela over for a sort of date, and he’s quite proud of himself for a few moments before he falls asleep. 

This surely won't come back to bite him in the ass. Surely not. 

* * *

When Seteth wakes it is to the scent of pancakes, and when he stumbles groggily out of his room, he finds Byleth on the ceiling on her tiptoes, somehow cooking pancakes while being upside down. There’s five on the table, four with words on them spelled out in blueberries and one with a crooked smiley face: “sorry” “that I” “wrecked your” “apartment” “:)” they all read together. Seteth would be touched, but he’s too busy staring at her on the ceiling to quite process that yet. 

“Good morning,” she says, staring at him blankly as she flips her pancakes- again, upside down. “I thought I should make last night up to you.”

He blinks a few times, still trying to process what he’s seeing, then nods, slowly. “Thank you.”

“I’m going back to Manuela’s with the rest of these. I think she’ll want some food.”

“Yes… I’m sure she will.” 

After Byleth leaves him, he stands in the kitchen, staring down at the pancakes, still caught off guard. The past twenty four hours have been… something.

He sits at the table. Maybe this will all make more sense when he’s got some food in his stomach.

* * *

When Manuela wakes it is also to the scent of pancakes, even if they’re a bit cold, but she doesn’t mind so much because Byleth is incredibly warm next to her (“Is it because of the Eternal Flames that you’re so hot?” she once asked, which Byleth initially thought was a bad pickup line before realizing it wasn’t).

“You made me breakfast? You sweetheart.”

Byleth stirs, then gives Manuela a tiny, tiny smile. It’s not often that her expression changes, but when it does, it’s for Manuela. “I thought you might need it. How did last night go?”

“Same old, same old,” she sighs. “He took one look at this place and ran.”

“Then he’s a coward and doesn’t deserve you,” Byleth huffs, snuggling a little closer.

“Oh, Byleth…” Manuela reaches for the pancakes as Byleth clings to her, then slowly starts eating. “I wish I could date someone like you. Someone who’s always there for me and accepts me as I am…”

Byleth is hesitant before she answers, and there’s a hint of longing in her voice when she does that Manuela misses. “I’m sure you will.”

“Hm.” She chews thoughtfully. “Do you want some, dear? You must be hungry. I can’t imagine Seteth fed you very well over there.”

“I ate a mop, a broom, and a towel,” she says proudly, and Manuela laughs.

“Well, I’m sure you’re still hungry.” She wrestles off a piece with her fork, then extends it to Byleth. “Have some.”

They finish off the pancakes together, Byleth snuggled close as Manuela feeds her.


	3. Chapter 3

_8:52 P.M._

_This is Seteth. Thank you for sending Byleth over with cleaning supplies already in hand. She seems much more inclined to behave now, and my broom closet is no longer trembling in terror. Enjoy your date tonight._

Byleth is considerably calmer this time, not just because she’s already eaten a pool-water blue dollar store mop, but because she still feels a bit bad about what happened a few weeks ago. Seteth _is_ being awfully accommodating, bringing a demon into his apartment, and besides, as fun as he is to rile up, she enjoys the quiet moments just as much. She _almost_ enjoys time with him at least half as much as she enjoys her time with Manuela, who, by her standards, is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

He’s currently doing a crossword as she sits in his lap, her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. With the gentle way that his chest rises and falls as he breathes and the quiet _scritch_ of the pencil on the rough, cheap paper, it’s almost enough to make her fall asleep, but she’s much too curious about her surroundings for that.

One of the strange things about Seteth’s apartment is that there are photographs all over the walls of the same girl, over and over again, with bright green hair and an even brighter smile. Her age ranges from infant to about twenty years old, and if Byleth has to guess, she’d say that it’s his daughter. There’s a woman in some of the pictures too, when the girl is younger; she guesses that she’s his wife and the girl’s mother. Craning her neck over the back of his shoulder, she spies a folding photo frame on a small table by the kitchen, showing a wedding scene on the left and the woman holding a baby in a hospital gown, smiling from ear to ear.

“Are you married? And a dad? I thought that wasn’t allowed for a priest.” When she was alive, hundreds of years ago, that wasn’t the case.

Seteth looks up to follow her gaze. “I was. Times change. The church decided long ago to stop limiting clergy from participating in romantic relationships. Celebrating our capacity to love each other is but another way to honor the goddess and thank her for giving us that gift, as is having children.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a moment. “Wait, ‘was’?”

“My wife passed several years ago, in a car accident that almost claimed my daughter’s life as well.”

“I’m so sorry.”

His gaze is distant as he continues. “The only comfort I have is that she must have died instantly. There was no suffering, and I am sure that she is with the goddess now.”

“Mmhmm.” She lets her head fall again.

“May I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“What is the Eternal Flames like? Is it as the scriptures say?”

“What, full of fire and brimstone and demons with pointy sticks? Not at all.” She shifts a little, making herself a bit more comfortable. “It’s cold. And dark. Full of the souls of the damned.”

“...are you one of them? I apologize if that is too personal a question.”

“I don’t blame you for being curious. Yes, I am. All demons are. We’re all cursed to suffer from our greatest pain in life.”

“That’s... dreadful. I’m sorry.”

“Hm.” The sound is almost amused. To be honest, this isn’t really the answer she expected from him. “I thought you’d say that we deserved it. We are in the Eternal Flames, after all. We had to do something to get there.”

“There are certainly still those who subscribe to that belief, but I do not count myself among them. I believe that, well, except in certain cases, everyone is capable of redemption.”

“I see.” She snuggles closer. “You know, you’re not half bad. For a priest.”

“And you are… tolerable. For a demon.”

She makes another one of those amused sounds at that, then looks down at his crossword. “Are you stuck?”

“I need a six letter word for dull.”

“Seteth,” she suggests, and he nearly chuckles before harrumphing in offense.

“You sound like my daughter. That is precisely something that Flayn would say.”

“Then I think we’d get along.”

He thinks for a moment, then writes “boring” down on his crossword. “I think you would.”

* * *

“Alright, Byleth. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Byleth, currently laying on Manuela’s bed, stretches, then curls back up like a cat. “You’re leaving earlier than usual.” It’s not at all like Manuela to be this punctual. Usually she leaves at least a half hour late for anything that isn’t the opera (she only leaves five minutes late for the opera, to her credit). 

“Yes, well, I’m going with Seteth, and you know what a hardass he is about being on time for things.” She stops to check her reflection again, fluffing her hair in the mirror. “I don’t know what his problem is. It’s not like we even have a schedule to follow. The goddess won’t care if we show up at eleven on the dot or not.”

She has no idea why Seteth and Manuela would be going somewhere together, unless… “Wait, are you going on a date?” 

“Ha! The day that Seteth goes on a date with me will be the day that the goddess herself appears in front of me and declares me a saint. Do you know what kind of woman he says is his ideal? ‘Quiet and proper.’ What is this, the 18th century?” She opens her mouth, gaping like a fish out of water as she scrapes off some excess lipstick with her nail. “We’re going to the cathedral. I like to go and pray at least once a month, and he insists on coming along. You’d think he’d have enough of that place, being there all the time, but I guess not.”

“Oh.” Byleth rolls onto her side, then props herself up on her elbows. Something isn’t quite clicking about all of this. “I didn’t think that you were religious. I mean…” She gestures to herself. “The devout usually don’t go around summoning demons.”

“Well, we both know that was an accident,” Manuela laughs. “But a happy one. I don’t think I could be faulted for wanting some company, can I? I’m sure the goddess will understand.”

“I guess.”

She’s lost in thought for a few moments. “You know, I first went to that cathedral when I was a child. I heard a woman singing, just out of sight, and wandered off from my parents. I tried to sing along, hoping that she would come out and meet me, but I never found her. It was that day that I realized that I could sing. I believe it was the goddess herself, gifting me with my singing voice.”

“That’s sweet.” Byleth fiddles with her hair, staring at the wall ahead. It’s strange to see this side of Manuela. She’s never been around anyone particularly religious in her life besides clergy, like Seteth, and even when she has, she hardly pays attention to it. “I’ve never been in a cathedral.” 

“Were you religious? In life, I mean.”

“No. I didn’t even know the goddess existed until I died.”

“That hardly seems fair. You were playing a game you didn’t even know the rules for, and then you got cursed because of it… I’d take you to the cathedral if I could, but, if the old tales are to be believed, you’d burn right up. We wouldn’t want that.” Something in what said seems to spark something in her. “Oh! That reminds me… I wanted to ask. What do you do when I’m gone?”

“Wait for you to get back,” she shrugs. “Sometimes I stare at bugs on the ceiling.”

“Really? Goodness, dear, if you were so bored, you should have told me! Watching bugs… How dreadful.”

“Watching bugs is fun,” Byleth frowns, not with her expression, but with her voice. She doesn’t understand how Manuela could _possibly_ find watching bugs boring. Maybe she doesn’t realize that eating the bugs is part of it… That would certainly explain it.

“Well, I have something that’s even more fun. I don’t need my phone in church, anyways” She opens up something on her phone, then hands it to Byleth, who stares at the screen curiously. Out of all the modern inventions she’s encountered, phones are among the most confusing and the most fascinating. She’s gotten pretty decent at working one, she thinks, mostly thanks to Manuela’s help. The first time she held one she thought she was supposed to eat it, and now she only _occasionally_ puts her mouth on it.

“What is this?”

“It’s an app called Twitch. A man I went on a date with made me download it because he streams a game called… Four Might? Oh, I can’t remember. It’s not really my thing, but I have a feeling that you’ll like it.”

“I doubt that it’s as good as bugs on the ceiling…”

Seteth knocks on the door, calling out to remind Manuela that they were supposed to leave five minutes ago, and Manuela shouts for him to calm down as she gives Byleth a hug goodbye.

By the time Manuela comes home, she nearly has to wrestle her phone away from an entranced Byleth, who yells something about that not being “very poggers” of her at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Ooh, strong, aren’t you?”

Byleth huffs a little as she does another push-up, Manuela bobbing up and down as she sits on her back. To be honest, Byleth’s whole… fitness junkie thing was something that Manuela never expected, but she certainly does appreciate it when she watches those muscles flex. Who knew that a demon could be so _fit?_ Byleth’s never asked her to sit on her back before when she does her (in Manuela’s opinion, frankly ridiculous number of) morning push-ups, but this show of strength is even more… what’s the word…

Attractive? That bit confuses Manuela, because she’s straight. She knows she’s straight. Of course she is! This is just aesthetic appreciation, at best.

“You’re still not… heavy enough,” Byleth huffs. “Maybe we should ask Seteth. He’s heavier than you, right?”

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“I don’t know.” Byleth almost shrugs, but it turns into a push-up instead.

“Well, we can’t right now, because his daughter is visiting him. You know, Flayn. She’s a very sweet girl. Which reminds me…” She gives Byleth a little tap on her back, signalling her to stop for a second. “Would you like to come to the opera tonight? I have comp tickets, and I was thinking of inviting them… and you’ve never seen me perform.”

Byleth nearlys throws Manuela off as she scrambles to look at her. “Really? You want me to come to the opera?” Her expression isn’t changed, but there’s a glow of excitement in her eyes that is positively adorable. “I would love to!”

“We’ll have to cover up your horns, of course, and you may have to tuck your tail away, but… I think you’ll really enjoy it. We’re doing _Loog and the Maiden of Wind_.”

This time, Byleth really does throw Manuela off, dumping her on the floor then pouncing on her with a hug. “I can’t wait! What should I wear? Can I borrow something? I’ve never been to the opera. Am I supposed to-”

“Slow down, slow down,” Manuela laughs, giving Byleth a calming pat on the shoulder. “We’ll get you something to wear. I’m sure that my clothes will fit you.” There’s a brief moment where Manuela stares at the woman on top of her, shining with delight, and she almost wants to kiss her. Almost, but not quite. Instead, she tucks some of her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll help you do your hair too. You’ll be the belle of the ball. Let’s call Seteth and Flayn and see if they want to come, okay?”

* * *

Byleth is nearly bursting with energy by the time they get in the car to head to the opera house, all gussied up in one of Manuela’s dresses with her hair artfully done so as to conceal her horns. Manuela left early after helping her get ready, of course, being a singer, and so Byleth crams into the car with Seteth and Flayn, a bright, vivacious twenty-one year old, about an hour before the show is set to begin.

Seteth has his hands full the second that Byleth and Flayn seem to realize that they’re on the same wavelength of chaotic energy _and_ share a love of fishing. Once Flayn gets going, she doesn’t stop, and ends up chattering away the entire drive there, and the entire wait for the curtain. Seteth looks both exhausted and happy that they’re getting along so well, at least, until the playful ribbing begins. 

“You know, my father doesn’t even bait the hook when he’s fishing,” Flayn says, and Byleth can’t really tell if the red in his face is due to the red light across the intersection or if he’s blushing.

“Really? Why not?” She elbows him from the passenger seat. “You’re never going to catch fish that way.”

“I never learned how,” he mutters as the light turns green, and now she can definitely tell that it wasn’t just the red light.

“My mother tried to teach him so many times,” Flayn giggles. “It simply never seemed to stick.”

The opera itself, when they finally get there, is all glitz and glitter. It’s unlike anything Byleth’s ever seen before in her life. Centuries ago, she was a mercenary, and the closest she ever came to places like this was protecting them. She never went inside. There was no place for her there.

She feels awkward, coming in, but also can’t help the urge to want to wander off and explore, taking as much in as she can. Seteth, however, firmly keeps their arms linked, something which Flayn takes great interest in, but Byleth is sure is only a result of him not wanting to let a demon run loose in public. Still, it gives her a little thrill to know that most people watching probably assume them to be a couple, especially given the similarity of her hair color to Flayn’s. 

It’s nice to feel like she’s part of a family again. It’s been too long.

When the opera starts, she almost forgets about how Seteth casually has his hand brushing against her thigh when she sees Manuela. He’s only doing it as the most subtle way to keep in contact with her, not wanting her to feel unwell during the performance, she knows. Besides, when Manuela comes onstage, it could almost make her heart skip a beat, if it was beating. She’s so breathtakingly beautiful, and then, when she starts singing, Byleth feels it in her very soul.

She wishes this moment could last forever, Seteth at her side and an angel on the stage in front of her, and yet she feels that bittersweet misery that reminds her that she’s a demon, and a heaven like this has no place for her, no matter how much love she has in her heart for these two.

Love. How did this happen? _Why_ did this happen? It’s only been a few months in the mortal realm, and yet nowhere feels as much like home as when she’s with both of them. Having a contract with Manuela isn’t the same as having a relationship, nor is spending every Tuesday night at Seteth’s when Manuela is on yet another date.

Her heart still betrayed her anyways.

What did it? Was it because they were kind to her? Was it because it’s the first kindness she’s been given in centuries? Was it merely physical attraction, or was it something more?

She doesn’t know. How could she know? She’s never been in love before.

Seteth seems to know something is wrong, because his hand finds hers with a gentle squeeze, and after a quick glance to confirm that Flayn isn’t looking, she squeezes back and rests her head on his shoulder.

* * *

The only restaurant they’re able to find open late enough after the opera is an IHOP. Seteth hasn’t been to one since Flayn was a child and found out about the disheartening truth of them serving barely any fish, but at least they have some grilled tilapia on the menu.

He’s already starting to regret offering to pay for everything, mostly because, when he told Byleth to order whatever she wanted, she ordered _precisely_ what she wanted, which was three different kinds of pancakes, a t-bone steak and eggs, four sides of bacon, a macaroni and cheese bowl, and one of each flavor of milkshakes. Manuela, to her credit, tried to dissuade her and give some helpful hints about manners, all of which fell on deaf ears as Byleth’s eyes grew even wider, staring at the menu with a ferocious intent like a prey animal about to make a kill.

He’s _also_ regretting taking Manuela, already a little tipsy because of the flask she brought with her for after the performance and downed in the car on the way here, to a place where there is such an obvious senior menu (the fact that he’ll have to go pick up her car later doesn’t help matters much either).

“Seteth, dear, don’t you qualify for the senior menu?” she asks with a wink.

“He does!” Flayn chirps up before he can even begin to protest. “How wonderful, Father! You can save a little bit of money!” 

He glances up at Byleth, still rattling off her impossibly long order to the increasingly concerned looking waiter, a young woman with pink pigtails and little heart-shaped hair clips. “Yes, how fortunate…”

Byleth’s deadpan enthusiasm, and general lack of respect for his credit card, is both infuriating and charming, and the worst part is that he’s not sure which it’s more of.

However, despite the financial damages and bullying from certain table members, he has to admit that he’s having a lovely time. It’s been a long while since he’s gone out like this, and it almost feels as if there’s a sweet, rosy glow settling across the table as he watches them laugh and talk. Flayn gets along with the two women well, and for a moment he remembers how she jostled him earlier in the opera house when Byleth was gone in the bathroom.

_“Have you ever considered remarrying, Father? I think it would be very good for you.”_

He’d scoffed and told her that he had no interest in that, but when he sees how happy Flayn looks, and how much they all seem to like each other, he reconsiders for just a moment. Manuela looks up at him with a happy, drunk smile, her cheeks flushed and some of her hair sticking to her forehead, and Byleth follows Manuela’s gaze with one of those small, rare smiles. For once, he doesn’t hide his smile.

Then that pink-haired server gives him the bill, and he nearly falls out of his seat.


	5. Chapter 5

Byleth likes to watch Seteth and Manuela sleep. She knows that, by human standards, it’s creepy, unless there’s some sort of pre-established agreement, like being in a relationship or something that makes it acceptable to stare wide-eyed at her bed partner. She’s still working out the nuances, because it’s been so long since she was human that she’s forgotten most of the social intricacies, and also because among demons, not only is it quite normal, but it’s also quite the compliment.

Being stuck in this predicament, especially with those pesky feelings fueling it, she settles for a compromise: she spends half the night watching them and the other half watching Twitch streams (for, as everyone knows, demons rarely ever sleep). When she isn’t spamming PogChamp, she stares at whoever is sleeping next to her and simply observes, trying to ignore the way they play her heartstrings like a violin.

Seteth frowns in his sleep, usually, but not always. Sometimes his features relax and he looks downright peaceful, and Byleth finds herself wishing to see that expression more often when he’s awake. It’s nice.

Manuela, on the other hand, is even more relaxed in her sleep than in waking, and she often drools _and_ snores, both of which Byleth finds utterly charming. It’s so… Manuela, as much as the mess surrounding them is.

Seteth rarely moves in his sleep, but when he does it’s to roll over and wrap her in his arms, cuddling close as he smiles or mumbles something in his sleep. The first time it happened, she was determined to tease him about it, but after a half hour of snuggling she realized that she kind of liked it, and after an hour she definitely liked it, and by two hours any schemes were all over for her. His arms were too nice and warm (and his tiddies too big) for her to complain and risk him avoiding such behavior in the future.

Manuela would be clingy if she wasn’t also so wiggly, and also if she wasn’t a notorious blanket thief. Byleth usually has to chase her around in order to stay in contact during the night, but when she wakes she makes up for it with some sleepy morning cuddles.

They are both so different from each other, but in complementary, refreshing ways, and as a bonus Seteth is a bona fide DILF and Manuela a guaranteed MILF. Everything could have been set up nicely for her to let herself go and follow her confused, pining heart, but of course there has to be a snag or two or three:

  1. Byleth knows never to mix work and dating, because things usually turn out badly. Manuela, being under a contract with her, definitely qualifies as work.
  2. Seteth is a priest, and thus not particularly inclined towards demons, even if he’s shown sympathy in the past and seems comfortable enough with her now.
  3. Manuela is straight, or at least, she seems to be, judging by her dating pool consisting entirely of men and the assorted romance paperbacks scattered around her apartment featuring shirtless cowboys, firemen, princes, and even a shirtless accountant (who is honestly ridiculously ripped, considering his profession. Does he work out before work? Is he that jacked from lifting boxes of accounting papers? The plot hole drives Byleth crazy). 



Byleth sighs, louder than usual, and Manuela stirs a little in her sleep, flopping over so that she’s halfway laying across the demon, who hugs her tightly.

She’s in a mess that makes Manuela’s apartment look downright immaculate.

* * *

“Seteth. We need to talk.”

Manuela isn’t sure what to do, but Seteth seems to have most things figured out, like romance and all that. This being the case, she’s confident that he can help her.

“Have you summoned another demon again?” Despite the deadpan delivery, his lips are quirking into an ill-concealed smile.

“No!” Manuela protests, huffing and crossing her arms. “How rude! No, I have something very serious to discuss.”

“And what is that?”

“Is it… a normal thing for a straight woman to think about another woman?”

“I am certain that straight women think of other women, given the fact that approximately fifty percent of the population is female, and we do tend to think of other people from time to time.”

“Not like that! I mean. Romantically, even if only in passing.”

“Ah. Well, Manuela, I can tell you with all confidence, no straight woman thinks of another woman romantically, even if only in passing.”

“Are you _sure_?”

“Quite positive.”

“Hm.” She purses her lips, and fidgets with her fingers, and taps her foot.

“Do you need some wine to process this, Manuela?”

“Yes, some wine would be lovely.” As he pours a glass for himself and then one for her, she contemplates. “Seteth, are you gay? I know you have a kid, but, you know, sometimes people don’t realize until later in life.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was just wondering. How else would you know that?”

“...common sense?”

“Ah.” She swirls the wine in her glass contemplatively. “Well, are you?”

He nearly slams the bottle down. “Do you _mind?_ ”

“Sorry.”

With a sigh, he sips his wine. “I am bisexual, if you really _must_ know.”

Her face brightens. “So you like women.”

“I believe that has been made abundantly clear not only by my last statement, but by....” he gestures pointedly at the pictures around his apartment.

“I know, I know. Just making sure.”

“Do _you_ like women, Manuela?”

She spits out her drink and fumbles through a response that isn’t really a “yes” or a “no” so much as a “do you think I know that? why else would I be asking all this?!”

* * *

Seteth’s call with Flayn is going pretty normally today, just as it always does. She’s unabashedly telling him about all of her college classes, and the stress of trying to get into medical school, and he answers, as he always does, with suggestions on how best to work through her classes, offers of help, and the suggestion to talk to Manuela about medical school because she’s already been through half of it.

However, Flayn slips in a curveball today.

“So, are you and Byleth dating?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You needn’t be shy, Father! I saw how affectionate you two were at the opera! And you spend every Tuesday night with her. _And_ I saw your IHOP receipt. You spent $103.87 on Byleth’s meal, not including tax! You simply _must_ be in love with her!”

“Flayn, you are wildly misinterpreting-”

“I fully support you, Father! You shouldn’t be alone anymore. I’m glad that you’ve found love again. I certainly do not want you to spend the rest of your life alone, and I know that Mother would want the same thing. You and Byleth make quite the pair!”

“Flayn…” he sighs. “We are not a couple. You are blowing things out of proportion. Again.”

“Can you blame me? What else am I supposed to gather from this? That you are just good friends? Poppycock!”

“Things are more complicated than you think.”

“Yes, they are,” she huffs, “because you are more stubborn than a team of donkeys tied together to pull a sailing ship across a desert! And this does not even begin to breach the topic of your affection for Manuela!”

“For…” He’s at a loss for words for a moment. “What on _earth_ has put these ideas into your head? For goddess’ sake, Flayn, if I was considering a relationship, I would tell you.”

“So you say, and yet I believe that you need a bit of urging. Wait…” She gasps. “Have you not even recognized your own feelings yet! Oh, goodness, my apologies, Father! I do not mean to push you towards a realization you have not yet had yourself. Take your time! But mark my words, I shall be proven right!” Seteth’s about to splutter out a response before she suddenly continues. “Oh, would you look at the time! Forgive me, Father, but I must go. Class starts soon. Love you! Goodbye!”

Seteth slowly lowers his phone once she hangs up, a hand coming to his forehead. What has he done to give her that impression? He’s been repressing things so well!

What has gotten into him? Perhaps his heart isn’t as impenetrable as he thinks.


	6. Chapter 6

Manuela isn’t expecting the call from Seteth that night, not one bit.

“Manuela? Is everything alright?” He sounds almost… alarmed.

“Of course it is. It’s better than alright.” Tonight, her and Byleth are having spa night, which isn’t something that Byleth’s done before, and not something that Manuela’s thought to do with her yet. One hand is lazily extended so that Byleth can paint her nails a bright, brassy orange, and the other holds her phone just hovering by her face so that it doesn’t touch her face mask (Byleth has one on too). “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You haven’t brought Byleth over. Don’t you have a date tonight?” More quietly, he adds. “You always have dates on Tuesday night.” It’s been a familiar arrangement for the past months since they all went to the opera together, so really, it’s not that surprising that he’s wondering what’s going on, but she still has to give him a hard time for it.

“Not this one. Wait, Seteth, were you actually _worried_ about me? How sweet!”

He splutters some sort of unintelligible response before giving a harsh _hmph_. “You are a creature of habit, and thus I have cause to worry when you don’t align with your habits.”

“Mmhmm. Sure.” She pulled the phone away from her face and put it on speaker phone. “Keep talking, Seteth. We’re painting our nails and doing facials. Say hi to Byleth, since I’m sure you miss her.”

“Hello, Byleth.” He sounds utterly defeated.

“Hi Sheteth,” Byleth answers, very muffled. “I can’t move my fashe much becaushe of this mashk thingy.”

“You’ll master it eventually, dear,” Manuela says. “It’s her first time doing one.”

“I see.” There’s a wistful tone to his voice.

“Seteth… do you want to come over? I’m sure you could use the company. You can join us.”

“No, thank you. I do not know how your products will affect my daily skincare routine.”

“Wait, you have a skincare routine? Color me surprised,” she laughs.

“What do you mean?”

“You look so old. I didn’t think that-”

“I do not!” he protests.

“Oh, calm down, I meant it as a compliment. You have a very mature charm about you, Seteth.”

“Hmph.”

“Stop pouting!”

“I am not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You are,” Byleth helpfully adds.

He makes an offended noise, and Manuela rolls her eyes. “Come over. You’re obviously desperate for company.”

* * *

Byleth can’t talk much with the face mask on, and so she observes, instead, when Seteth comes over. It’s something that she’s always been good at, anyways; conversation has never been her forte.

She notices something _very_ interesting in the way that Manuela and Seteth interact.

He’s obviously very flustered when Manuela invites him to sit on the bed with them (the only available surface to sit on, besides), and flushes further when Manuela is pinning his hair back and fussing over him with the hand that doesn’t have wet nail polish on it. He’s surprisingly compliant, too, for someone usually so stubborn, even if he makes the occasional minor complaint about ingredients or her rough handling or the like. In fact, it’s almost like he’s keeping up a _pretense_ of complaining so that Manuela doesn’t catch onto the way he looks at her when she’s not looking at him. The few glasses of wine that they both have only heighten all of this.

Byleth also notices that Manuela seems to have no qualms about being overly friendly with him, from poking and pulling at his face (which, granted, is required for a facial) to even half-perching, half-sitting in his lap whenever she can find a good excuse to.

It only takes a few moments for Byleth to finally figure out what’s going on, piecing together all the little flirtatious moments she’s seen so far and their familiarity now.

No doubt about it, Seteth and Manuela have a thing for each other, and they have it _bad_. This leads Byleth to a few conclusions:

  1. Seteth is definitely too much of a stubborn ass to say anything.
  2. Seteth is also a master at giving Pining Looks when Manuela isn’t looking, then instantly switching back to deadpan or borderline irritated when she turns back. 
    1. For a brief, foolish moment, she wonders if he does the same when she herself isn’t looking, but then she remembers again that he’s a priest and she’s a demon, so he certainly isn’t, no matter how amiable they’ve gotten with each other (and no matter how much she might wish he would).
  3. Manuela seems to take him being stubborn as a sign that she should back off, which is fair, given the second point mentioned.
  4. There’s no way that they’ll get together with some outside intervention. 
  5. Byleth can be that outside intervention.



She focuses as hard as she can on preparing to look deathly ill when they take off her face mask, a plan already hatching. She may not be able to be with either of them, but, hopefully, she can at least make sure that they’re happy with each other.

* * *

Manuela fairly shrieks when Byleth removes her face mask, making Seteth jump so high that he comes close to falling off the bed. “Dear, you should have told me that you weren’t feeling well!” With a yank, she pulls her across the bed towards them, and with an inelegant _flop_ Byleth falls across their laps, her head landing on Seteth’s and her legs across Manuela’s.

“Good gracious, Manuela, have you been ignoring her all day? She looks like death warmed over!” He’s never seen her as bad as this, not even on the rare occasion that she decides to spend the entire night watching her Twitch streams on the ceiling and not in his bed. 

“Of course not! We’ve been together all day.” She pats Byleth’s leg, a worried look on her face. “Poor thing… I’m sorry, dear. We’ll get you fixed right up.”

“I’ll be okay,” Byleth mumbles, her eyes fluttering shut. “Just let me lay here for a while…” There’s something about her tone that doesn’t quite sit right with Seteth, but he decides to let it be. She must truly be unwell.

“Of course. As long as you need,” he nods. His voice is different, too; there’s an uncharacteristic fondness in it, one that he’s long been trying to suppress, and, judging by the smirk on Manuela’s face, isn’t doing so very well. “What?” he asks sharply.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, waving her hand as lazily as the cat who ate the canary would its paw.

“You don’t have to stop anything on my account,” Byleth says, punctuating her words with a light cough that sounds strangely forced. “I just need to stay here. For a _very_ long time.”

“How can we do anything when we’re sick with worry over you? It wouldn’t do for us to just let you waste away while we keep braiding hair and gossiping.”

“We have not been gossiping,” Seteth protests. “Or braiding hair.”

“Oh, hush, it’s an expression. Is there anything we can do for you, Byleth?”

“No,” she shakes her head emphatically. “Just pay attention to each other. I’m going to sleep.”

“Well, alright. If you’re sure… Seteth, your hand. We haven’t done your nails yet.” He offers one out to Manuela, using the other to absentmindedly stroke the already sleeping Byleth’s hair. Naturally, she notices the affectionate gesture, and her smirk gets more smug. He shoots her a withering look as her gaze finally drops to his hand with a gasp. “I know you told me you took care of your skin, but goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with such nice cuticles! You put me to shame, Seteth.”

“Neglecting details in one’s appearance betrays a carelessness in other aspects of life,” he sniffs, and Manuela rolls her eyes.

“Again with your proverbs. It really is a shame that such a handsome man as you spends all day in church with his nose buried in a book of musty old sayings.”

“And where else would you have me? I thought you were religious as well. Or do you just go to pray for the fun of it?”

Byleth shifts on their laps, almost imperceptibly, but a quick glance down confirms that she’s still asleep.

“As if. I just think that there’s a time and place for it, that’s all. You should let loose some time, Seteth. Really. What color?” She holds out a subtle peach and a darker green.

“Green,” he says after some thought. “Isn’t that precisely what I am doing right now?”

“You should do it more often,” she clarifies. “I enjoy your company. We both do.”

“I was not aware that you were able to speak on Byleth’s behalf.”

“Oh, trust me, I know how she feels. She talks about you a lot. You two would make a cute couple.”

“What?!” he splutters, nearly yanking his hand away from Manuela. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. I mean, look what you’re doing right now.” She gestures to his other hand, which is still stroking Byleth’s hair in a soothing motion. “I know you like her.”

Seteth is not the kind of man to whom lying comes easily. Sure, he can do it if necessary, such as if Flayn needs him too, but that still doesn’t mean that he is particularly _good_ at it, nor does he make a habit of it. What he wants to say is (indignantly) “I have no interest in Byleth!” but that couldn’t be further from the truth, and so instead it comes out as some sort of strangled noise, as if the words themselves are hellbent on choking him.

“Admit it.”

“I will do no such thing,” he says primly, then changes the subject to respectable things like taxes and the opera. Manuela groans but patiently paints his nails nonetheless, and when they’re done and Byleth still hasn’t moved, they both silently agree that neither will they, and simply lay back on the bed to sleep.

When Seteth wakes in the morning to the alarm on his phone (which Manuela helped him set, because he had no idea how), two trains of thought are already roaring out of the station as he slowly becomes aware of how Byleth slithered up between them in the night and Manuela stole the blankets. 

Unfortunately, but predictably, it did indeed come back to bite him in the ass. 


	7. Chapter 7

Manuela knows her limits. Really, truly, she does. She’s been drinking long enough to know when a bit too much is a bit too much, even if sometimes when she’s a little too drunk she forgets what a bit too much is. Usually it doesn’t matter, though, because usually by then she’s out of alcohol, and so she just eats something and sleeps it off. 

She studied to be a doctor, for goddess’ sake, even if she only got halfway, so she knows all about the blood alcohol content and the alcohol poisoning and the one too many drinks and all that.

Because she knows this, she also assumes that she knows Byleth’s limits, because her and Byleth are around the same size. In fact, she assumes that Byleth’s limits are _below_ hers, partially out of the simple logic that Byleth is a little smaller than her, and partially out of the teensiest bit of arrogance and pride that she herself has built up a high tolerance (which isn’t really something that anyone should be proud of, and deep down she knows that, but she tends to ignore that part). It’s a surprise, to be honest, that Byleth hasn’t had anything to drink yet, considering the fact that she’s been with Manuela a year, and after about six months Manuela stopped going on dates altogether and staying home with Byleth on Tuesday nights and getting absolutely hammered.

What Manuela doesn’t know is that Byleth, being a demon, has an unlimited alcohol tolerance, and thus she has no limits.

Byleth, never having drunk before as a demon, has no idea that demons have limits at all, and when she was alive her father spent so much time in taverns that she’s long been under the impression that everyone’s alcohol tolerance is as impressive as hers used to be.

So when Manuela suggests a drinking competition, she is absolutely sure that she’ll win, and Byleth doesn’t see any harm in keeping going. When Manuela sees Byleth keep drinking, then she knows that of course, she must be able to keep drinking, and she doesn’t really think about anything else because she’s already too drunk to pay attention to percentages and drink numbers.

So Manuela drinks.

And she drinks.

And she drinks.

And she drinks.

And she drinks.

And she drinks.

And she drinks.

And she-

She stops drinking.

* * *

Seteth is not pleased when Byleth nearly breaks down his door by banging on it. He’s even less pleased that the first offensive action is accompanied by a second, that being frantic yelling. “Seteth! Seteth!”

Groggily, he opens it. He’s rather irritated and unkempt, his reading glasses askew and his dressing gown only half tied. “What is it? Don’t tell me that Manuela has another date… You two have already been loud enough as it-”

“Manuela won’t wake up!”

He sighs, even more irritable. “Try shaking her harder.”

“I did! You need to come see her!” She grabs him by the sleeve, nearly pulling his robe off in the process. “Something is wrong with her!”

For the first time, he sees something on Byleth’s face other than blank indifference or only the barest suggestion of emotion.

She looks terrified, and that terrifies him.

Wordlessly, he rushes next door as she supplies more than enough words for both of them, babbling on and on about how they’d been drinking, and just kept going and going, and she had no idea something was wrong until it was too late-

Everything happens far too slowly and far too quickly. The ambulance doesn’t arrive quick enough, and yet it’s also there in no time at all between him calling the emergency number and putting the phone down; the paramedics take hours to load her up, and yet when he looks at the clock it’s only been ten minutes since they arrived; the argument between Byleth and the paramedics is another delay as she insists on coming in the ambulance with her, and yet it’s resolved within moments when she emphatically tells them that she’s Manuela’s girlfriend and the closest thing to family that she has.

* * *

“What were you thinking?” Seteth is tired, even if there’s anger and worry roiling beneath his words. She can hear it in the way his voice shakes.

“I didn’t realize that she’d had too much until it was too late. I didn’t even _know_ you could have too much. We didn’t know things like that when I was alive.” The excuses seem empty, as cold, sterile, and stark as the hospital waiting room that Byleth and Seteth are sitting in. It makes the ache in her head even worse as she pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. She’s not sure if it’s from the tight knit cap on it, hiding her horns, or something else entirely. There’s a dark pit in her stomach weighing her down, one that makes her feel sick and tired and shaky, and she can’t ignore the voice in her head that keeps telling her that this is her fault. “Will she be alright?”

He thinks for a moment. “I think she will, thanks to you. I must say, you impressed me.”

She lifts her head, confused. “Huh?”

“You saved her life by not taking her soul, didn’t you?”

“...how did you know?”

“I spoke to a nurse earlier. She said that it was a miracle that Manuela survived… Most people would die, in her position. But your contract doesn’t allow her to die until you claim her soul, correct?”

Slowly, she nods. “Yes. I wasn’t sure if it would work, to be honest, but… I’m glad it did.”

“Thank you. Thank you for saving her.” He takes Byleth’s hand, and it looks like there are tears in his eyes before he turns his face away from her. “I don’t think I could bear to lose her. As frustrating as she can be…” He laughs, the sound turning into a sob. “I wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world. I care very much for her.”

Byleth squeezes his hand, unsure of what to say.

“Is that the same reason you told the paramedics that you were her girlfriend?”

“What?”

“As far as I am aware, you two are not in a relationship.” He _was_ crying, she can see when he turns back to her, but he’s composed himself now. Even if it’s only barely. “But you care for her very deeply as well.”

“Of course I do. She’s…” How to describe Manuela? Byleth doesn’t think she could ever do her justice. “I needed to be in there with her. In the ambulance. I remember she once told me that only family members or partners could ride with a patient… I couldn’t leave her. I just couldn’t.”

“I understand,” he nods. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I feel terrible and numb all at once. I… I don’t know.” There’s a sniffle, and she realizes that it was her, and that there are tears rolling down her cheeks. It feels… strange. The last time she cried was when her father died, and that was so long ago that it may as well be a dream.

Seteth pulls her into a hug and she lets herself sob, the tears flowing freely now.

* * *

“Spare me the lecture, Seteth,” Manuela groans when he comes into her hospital room, Byleth in tow. He’s got that look in his eyes (red from crying, she notices) that says he’s ready to give the tongue-lashing of a lifetime. She just woke up after being passed out for goddess knows how long, and she _knows_ she’s not ready to hear another one of his lectures in this state. “I already feel like shit as it is.” Byleth nearly launches herself onto the bed, hugging Manuela tightly. “Oh, dear! Dear! I appreciate the sentiment but please, not…” She feels another wave of nausea. “Oh no, no, get off, dear.”

When Byleth pulls away, she’s crying. It would be subtle on an average person- red, puffy eyes and a few tears slowly freely down her cheeks- but on Byleth it’s so alien that it’s more like an indicator of a complete meltdown. The sight of it is enough to shock Manuela into forgetting how awful she feels, even if only for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Manuela.”

“Dear, what’s wrong? You’ve got nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault.”

“I should have stopped you! I should have known better, I should have-“

“Shh, Shh, it’s alright. Please don’t cry. You didn’t know any better. _I_ should have been the one to stop me.”

“Yes, you should have,” Seteth says, obviously trying to keep his tone stern, but still it wavers. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to m- ...us? We were worried sick about you! You need help, Manuela.”

“Can we save this for later? Please?” she sighs. Seeing her awake has put both of them in a tizzy, it seems. She doubts they spent all their time in the waiting room like this. Or maybe they did. How would she know? She’s been unconscious.

“No. No, we cannot, Manuela, because you…” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “You would have died, had Byleth not made the decision to not take your soul. She is the _only_ reason you are still alive.”

“What?” This is certainly news to Manuela, and it certainly puts things into a much different perspective. “It was that bad?”

“Yes,” Seteth hisses. “It was.”

“Goddess, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“You need help,” he repeats, crossing his arms, and slowly, she nods as she moves to embrace Byleth, careful not to yank out her IVs.

“I know. I know I do. But please, can we talk about this later?”

“Yes,” he sighs, finally relenting, and his expression softens. “I apologize. I shouldn’t be so harsh when you are still recovering, but…” He sits on the end of the bed, reaching over to pat her hand. “I’m glad that you are alright. Truly.”

“Oh, Seteth,” she smiles. “It’ll take more than a few drinks to put me out of commission for good.”

“I’d rather you not test your limits again. See to it that it doesn’t happen, please. If not for your own sake, then for my sake, and for Byleth’s.” He pats her back, just below Manuela’s hand. 

“Of course,” she breathes.

Silently, she makes a promise to herself and to the goddess above. She’ll never put them through this again. She can’t bear to see them cry. She loves them both too much.

The thought almost surprises her, but at the same time, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. She loves them. Out of all the chaos, that is the thing that can ground her, the thing that makes so much sense. Of course she loves them. How could she not? 

Weakly, she gives Seteth a smile, and Byleth a comforting kiss on top of her head. Now isn’t the time to tell them that, and so she keeps it in her heart, safe and sound, until the time is right.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s an unspoken agreement between them that Byleth isn’t going to stay in Manuela’s apartment alone. Walking past her door and not going in is strange, and only emphasizes her absence more. She hesitates, but Seteth places a gentle hand on her shoulder and guides her to his door. She doesn’t take her eyes off of it, even as she hears the scrape of his key in the lock and his door against the frame.

“When is Manuela coming back?”

“That depends on Manuela. Only she can decide how much time she needs.” He motions for her to follow him inside and, reluctantly, she does. “A full program can take anywhere between one month to three.”

“Oh…” Slowly, she sits in the reclining chair, folding her arms across her chest as he locks the door.

“Byleth.” He kneels in front of her, and reaches out to hold her hands, pulling them away from her chest. “What happened was not your fault.”

_Yes it was._

“I should have stopped her.”

“You didn’t know.”

_You should have known._

“I should have known.”

“But you didn’t, and you can hardly be faulted for that. You cannot be expected to know everything of this time after only spending a year with us.” His knuckles brush against the bottom of her chin, lifting her head so that he can look her in the eyes. “You are not to blame.”

She doesn't meet his eyes.

“Byleth.” He squeezes her hands in a comforting, reassuring gesture. “You saved her life.”

“It wouldn’t have needed saving in the first place if-”

“That does not change the fact that you saved her life. Besides… she needed help regardless. Sometimes the goddess works in mysterious ways-”

“She shouldn’t,” she snaps. “She should just tell people what She wants, plain and simple, instead of letting them get hurt.” Finally, she meets his eyes. “Is that how you feel about all of this? That it was all just part of some divine plan?”

“No. No, it is not. Mostly… I feel anger with myself, for not realizing sooner what was happening.”

“What happened to not blaming yourself?”

He almost smiles. “Ah. I am a bit of a hypocrite, I suppose.”

“Aren’t we all,” she says flatly.

* * *

The next day, when Byleth wakes, it’s with an idea. It’s the least she can do to help make sure that when Manuela does return home, it’ll be a nice surprise. Seteth is already up and in the shower, of course, as he usually is.

She doesn’t bother to knock on the door, or even let him know that she’s in the bathroom until she yanks the shower curtain open and he lets out an undignified screech. “Seteth- stop screaming, it’s just me- Seteth, I had an idea.”

“Good gracious, Byleth, can this-” He pauses to snatch a shampoo bottle, covering himself with it. “Can this wait?”

“Does it have to?”

“Does it-” He’s lost for words for a moment. “Yes, yes, it does.”

“Oh. Okay.” She steps away from the shower, letting the curtain hang limp.

“Close the curtain!”

“Oh. Sorry.” She does so.

When he gets out, he nearly screams again when he finds her sitting cross-legged on the ceiling, directly above the toilet.

* * *

Manuela’s not fond of rehab, not one bit. She knows that it’s necessary, of course, and that in the end it will be good for her, but it’s still _boring_ as hell and difficult and worst of all, she doesn’t even feel the desire to flirt with any of the handsome (or even not so handsome) men here.

All she can think of is Byleth and Seteth, and their letters to her doesn’t help matters, but at the same time it’s a bright spot that she always looks forward to.

_Dear Manuela,_

_I hope you are doing well._

_Even as early in your rehabilitation as you are, I believe it pertinent to begin by encouraging you to remain committed. The beginning will be the hardest, if what I have been told is correct, and I wish to remind you that Byleth and I offer you our full support. Again, I urge you: remain committed._

_I have found that I miss you more than I realized I would. Byleth does, as well. She is more withdrawn than usual. However, we are both doing as well as can be expected in your absence. You truly are a shining star in our lives, both on and off the stage. We are worse off without your light._

_Byleth’s handwriting is, to be blunt, atrocious, so she asked me to write to you for her. She has this to say:_

_“Manuela, Seteth isn’t as soft as you to cuddle with. It’s disappointing. I miss you. Get better soon. Sorry about what happened.”_

_We anticipate your return to us with the greatest of fervor._

_Sincerely,_

_Seteth and Byleth_

She smiles as she folds the letter again, using it to fan herself for a few moments as she looks out the window. Seteth’s writing is so overly formal that it reminds her of the period dramas she so loves to watch with Byleth in which suitors send impassioned love letters to their object of interest, full of flowery prose and indulgent confessions of love. Perhaps she’ll receive one from Seteth, she hopes, but she also knows that it’s a bit silly to think that someone as uptight as him would ever discuss matters of the heart in such a romantic way. He’d most likely present such a thing to her much as he would a business proposition.

Or maybe, just maybe, he has a hidden romantic side…

The thought makes her laugh. Wouldn’t that be something?

Byleth, on the other hand… She’d probably stare at Manuela with that blank expression of hers and come outright and say it. Maybe she’d even toss in one of those beautiful smiles she sometimes graces the world with it, and then throw herself at Manuela for a hug. Yes, she’s sure that’s exactly how she’d do it. Maybe Manuela should surprise her. How fun would that be?

But later. She has more important things to focus on right now.

* * *

The first time they visit Manuela in rehab, she doesn’t look pleased. Not one bit, even if she’s pleased enough to see them again.

“It’s boring here. I’m bored.”

“Have you tried watching bugs on the ceiling?” Byleth suggests.

“Yes, dear, I have.”

“Did you eat them?”

“Did I- what?”

“That’s the best part,” Byleth nods sagely, then resumes her post back at Manuela’s shoulder. She’s levitating off the floor, but only barely; Seteth warned her against doing much more before they got out of the car (he also had to warn her about several other things, like not eating bugs, not staring people down as she tends to do, and not getting bored and deciding to clean herself like a cat).

“No one ever said it would be fun,” Seteth sighs, shaking his head. “In fact, I am certain many people say the opposite.”

“I know, I know. At least I have your visits and letters to look forward to. Which, speaking of… Did you bring it?”

“Yes, we did.”

Her eyes light up when he pulls a collection of crossword puzzle books out of his bag. “Oh, good! You’re a lifesaver, Seteth. I knew I could depend on the King of Crossword.”

“Is that what you and Byleth have taken to calling me?” he asks drily, and the little smirk on Byleth’s face is all he needs to know that yes, that is exactly what they must have taken to calling him at some point.

“Maybe,” she grins. “But really, thank you. Now I won’t feel like I’m going crazy all the time. There’s absolutely _nothing_ to do. They won’t even let me drink a single glass in here!” she complains.

“Manuela, that…” Seteth inhales, then exhales, trying desperately to remember those meditation videos that Byleth’s taken to watching lately when she steals his phone. She claims that it’s a nice change from Twitch streams, and adds some variety to the day. “That is the entire point.”

“Well, I don’t like it!” she huffs, crossing her arms, then sighs. “I know, I know. I’m whining.”

“It will be worth it in the end.”

“And then you can come home with us,” Byleth adds, flashing one of her rare smiles.

“Yes, that’s right,” Manuela nods. “And I can’t wait for it.” She nearlys throws herself at them in a hug. “I miss you two. A lot. I really do.”

“We miss you too, Manuela.” He returns the hug with as much zeal as she gives it. Truly, it will be nice to have her next door again, bright and just a bit- well, more than just a bit- chaotic.


	9. Chapter 9

Manuela’s apartment isn’t anywhere half as messy as it used to be. Ever since that morning on which Byleth interrupted Seteth in the shower, they’ve been coming over once a day to slowly work their way through the mess, tossing (or in Byleth’s case, eating) the trash, organizing her belongings, and slowly putting things away. There’s a surprising amount of storage space in her apartment; it’s just that Manuela never uses it. Hopefully, when she gets home, she’ll like the surprise. 

Besides helping Manuela, it’s helping Byleth deal with her guilt. Doing something makes her feel as if she’s helping make up for the damage. It’s something that she’ll always feel guilty for, she knows, on some level, but this helps her process it.

Seteth was quite taken with the idea when she told him, even if he was concerned about the “toxic nature” of Manuela’s apartment. He’s much better at organizing than Byleth is, as well, and much more picky about whether or not things are clean or not- especially more so than Byleth. It’s almost funny, watching him _hmm_ and _cluck_ over the mess, like a mother bird tidying her nest.

They often talk while cleaning, about themselves and about the church and about history and science and all the things that Byleth missed out on during her years in the Eternal Flames. However, Byleth rarely brings her personal life up, for she’d much rather listen to Seteth talk, and it is a rare occasion indeed that he asks about it.

One day he does, a day that he spends mostly silent, obviously lost in thought, his lips pressed tightly together and contemplative look on his face.

“Byleth, if I may, I’d like to ask you something of a personal nature.”

She stops shaking the shoebox in her hand, leaving her ear pressed against it. She’s been trying to figure out if it’s actually shoes or not, and has been getting quite good at being able to discern a box’s contents from sound only. It’s something she prides herself on. “What?”

“Ever since you told me of your curse long ago, I have been trying to figure out its nature. I don’t mean to pry, but, well… I must admit I am curious, but my desire to know stems more from concern about you than anything else.” He pauses for a moment, then sighs. “I assume that it has something to do with your need for physical contact. Of course, you do not have to tell me anything if you do not wish to.”

She nods, lowering the box. “You’re correct. In my life… I was a mercenary. The only person I ever had a connection with was my father. I was never good with people. They always thought me strange, or off-putting, and then, when my father died… I was alone. Completely alone.” She picks at the box’s edge with her fingernails. “I longed for someone else’s touch so bad that when I died it became the one thing that could sustain me.”

“Byleth…” He crosses the room hesitantly, then kneels down and hugs her. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay.” She hugs him tightly, basking in his warmth and his touch. “I have you and Manuela now. In hundreds of years, I’ve never felt as alive as I do with you two.”

“I am glad to hear that. I only wish there was more I could do for you…”

“Mm.” She pulls away so that she can look him in the eye, and for the first time, she sees him looking at her in the way he always looks at Manuela. Maybe he _has_ been doing it this whole time, but she just never saw it… “You said you were concerned about me.”

“Yes, I am. I care about you a great deal.”

“And here I thought Manuela was the one you were smitten for.”

He blushes, the peachy blush reaching the tips of his ears as he smiles. “I admit, I have great affection for you both.”

“Do you?” she grins, well and truly grins, and it only makes him smile wider.

“You have a lovely smile.”

“Oh,” she flushes deeply, and suddenly she’s unsure. “Thank you.”

“You act as if you’ve never received a compliment before.”

“It’s different coming from you.”

“And what of Manuela?”

“It’s different from her too.” She avoids his gaze, a smile finding her lips again. “But… in a good way.”

“Mm, I see,” he smiles. “Byleth, may I-?”

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he laughs. As an answer, she kisses him, deep and true, and he kisses her, and for a moment she forgets that they’re both crouching in a messy apartment with a cardboard box on her lap. “To think that the next time I fell in love it would be a demon and my messy neighbor…”

“So much for quiet and proper, huh?” she teases, and Seteth laughs again, bright and so much more unrestrained than usual, and it fills her up.

* * *

_Dear Manuela,_

_I wished to tell you this in person, but Byleth urged me to tell you in writing so that you may know as soon as possible, and I admit, in my eagerness, I showed little resistance to agreeing with her._

_I will just come out with it. I love you and Byleth both, ardently, with all my heart and soul. If I am being perfectly candid, this confession has been overdue for quite some time. I have long admired you, and yet kept my affections to myself, partially out of fear that you would not return them, and partially out of my own reluctance to admit it to myself. Rest assured, this reluctance had nothing to do with your character, and only with a failing on my part to recognize that I was even considering another relationship._

_I find myself thinking of you more often than not in your absence. I could never have fathomed how dull my life may be without your presence…_

Manuela lowers the letter, a hand raising to her mouth.

He actually did it. Goddess, he actually did it.

Quickly, she flips through the stack in her hand. There’s _pages_ of this. Goodness, did he write her a novel? She doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry as she starts reading again. 

* * *

Traffic is horrid, to put it mildly. A more accurate description would be that everyone in Fodlan suddenly decided to take a road trip, all at the same time, but they all took separate cars, and then they poured out specifically onto the highway that Seteth and Byleth have to take to visit Manuela at rehab. Seteth spends most of the drive tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while Byleth looks up strange videos to blast via Bluetooth through the car’s speakers, at least until Seteth begs her to _please_ choose something a bit more relaxing. Her idea of “relaxing” is, apparently, Gregorian chant trap remixes.

They’re not as bad as he thought they would be, he realizes, but he certainly doesn’t admit that.

When they finally arrive at the rehabilitation center, visiting hour is almost over. He hopes that Manuela isn’t too cross that they’re so late, but really, he can’t blame her if she is. He would be, if he was in her position. 

What he’s not expecting is for Manuela to rush up to him and kiss him the second she sees him.

“Seteth! You sweetheart!” she laughs between kisses. “You wrote-” _Kiss. “-_ me-” _Kiss._ “-a letter! And what a romantic one, at that!”

“Ah, I assume that my affections are-” She interrupts him with another kiss. “That my affections are returned?”

“Of course they are! Did you think that they wouldn’t be, you silly, silly-” Another kiss. “- _late_ man! Where were you?! I was near worried sick, thinking you weren’t coming, and I _know_ you would have phoned ahead or something if you were-”

“Traffic was bad,” Byleth interrupts, and Manuela’s features soften.

“Oh? That bad, huh? I’m sorry that you and Byleth had to sit through that for little old me. Which, by the by… I noticed a certain little tidbit in that letter you sent, Seteth,” she winks. “Something about Byleth?”

Seteth’s relieved that Manuela doesn’t seem to mind that part at all. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how she’d react. “Yes. I love you both. Dearly.”

“I love you too. Oh, it feels so good to say it! I just wish it were under better circumstances.” She reaches behind him to squeeze Byleth’s hand. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you? Until I’m home?”

“Of course,” Byleth nods.

“Thank you, dear. I’m so glad that you two are together too. You’re _such_ a cute couple. In fact-”

Manuela’s about to say something more when there’s a droning announcement that visiting hours are over, so please, say goodbye to your friends and family in a timely manner, thank you very much. With a sigh and a smile, Manuela leaves them, whatever words she had left unspoken.

* * *

Byleth is quiet in the car on the way home. It’s almost eerie, compared to the auditory chaos that the drive there was. Seteth keeps glancing over at her, concern evident in his features. 

“Is everything alright?” he asks after ten minutes of uncharacteristic silence.

“I guess.” She’s not sure how to tell him _why_ she’s so subdued. Really, it’s not fair to him, and besides, it’s her problem and her problem only.

“It doesn’t seem like it. What’s wrong?” He reaches for her hand, a rather significant gesture, given the fact that he is a firm believer in both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road. Either he’s taken ill or she really must look upset.

“I just…” She sighs. He won’t let this go until she answers, she knows. “I’m happy for you and Manuela. Really, I am. And I’m happy with you. Really happy.”

“And yet you are upset now.”

“Seeing you with Manuela like that…”

He looks at her quizzically. “Are you uncomfortable with our current relationship? I thought we discussed this arrangement.”

“No, no, nothing like that! I’m not jealous or anything. I _am_ happy for you, really, I am. I’m just…” She pauses to search for the right words. “I’m sad. That Manuela doesn’t look at me in the same way.”

“Ah.” He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You love her too, then.”

“Yes. But… I know she’s straight, and won’t ever love me back, and… it makes me sad.”

“Well, I would advise you not to give up hope.”

Lifting her head, she stares at him. “What do you mean?”

“It is not my place to say more, but I think that when she returns home, you should speak with her about this.”

“Wait, Seteth, do you think that she…?”

“I cannot answer that question. Only Manuela can.”

If Seteth is suggesting that she tell Manuela, then maybe… she lights up with a smile as she reaches for his phone. 

Perhaps there is a chance for her after all, she thinks, typing “Gregorian chant trap remix” into the search bar.

* * *

Manuela is surprised when Seteth comes to pick her up from rehab alone. He airily waves away her questions as to why Byleth isn’t with him, only assuring her that she was perfectly well; she simply had a few things to do at home.

“It’s pancakes, isn’t it? She’s making pancakes.”

“Perhaps,” Seteth says, in that tone that practically reeks of “I will neither confirm nor deny but this is absolutely a confirmation if you know me well enough to know that I cannot lie to save my life.” He doesn’t meet her eye as he opens the passenger car door for her.

“What a sweetheart! Oh, I can’t wait to see her.” She gives him a kiss on the cheek before getting into the car. “I missed you both so much. It’s good to finally be free!”

“You seem much improved,” he smiles, closing her door and then circling the car to get into his own seat. “Do you feel that this was worth it?”

“I’ll admit, I had my doubts in the beginning. It was _miserable_. But… yes. Yes, I know it was. You two don’t have to worry about me anymore. _I_ don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“I am glad to hear that.” They pull out of the parking lot, him driving as slowly as he always does. “Manuela, may I ask you something?” 

“Only if I get to ask you something first.”

“Very well. What is it?”

“What sort of pet names do I get to call you?” she asks, grinning at his immediate flush. “Baby, honey, darling? Any of those?”

“I believe my name will suffice,” he answers stiffly, but she’s not convinced.

“Oh come now, you have to have some sort of preference. Where’s the fun in just calling you by your name?”

“Practicality.”

“I said fun, darling, _fun_. Well, would you look at that! I think ‘darling’ fits you quite well.”

“Darling is fine,” he mumbles, blushing even more deeply, but there’s a small smile on his face as he says it. Oh, he likes it, no doubt about that. She considers giving him another playful ribbing, but decides to relent. For now. 

“What does Byleth call you?”

“Baby,” he admits. “Sometimes babe.”

“How cute!”

Before she can press the matter further, he hurriedly interrupts. “Speaking of Byleth, may I ask what you were going to tell her the last time we visited you? It seemed important.”

“Oh. That. Yes, it was. Do you remember that talk we had a while ago, Seteth?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“About women, and, you know, thinking about women.”

“Ah. Yes, I do recall.” 

“It was about her. I love her, Seteth, and I wanted to tell her that, but it didn’t feel right to say that and then just leave.”

“I suspected as much,” he smiles. “She will be glad to hear that.”

“Seteth, are you saying that she-“

“Perhaps,” he says again, a twinkle in his eye, and she gasps and laughs and whoops all in the same moment. 

Goddess, this car ride is going to take forever! She can’t wait to get home to Byleth, but for now she contents herself with nearly yanking Seteth’s hand off the steering wheel so that she can hold it, and listen to him scold her with unmistakable fondness in his voice.

* * *

When Manuela enters her apartment for the first time in months, it is to the scent of pancakes. That’s the first thing she notices, and the next is that the apartment is actually clean, rendering it nearly unrecognizable and making her wonder if perhaps she’s stumbled into the wrong one (it confuses her so much that for a brief moment she wonders if maybe she’s been drunk this entire time and rehab was all a fever dream, but no, when she touches the wall it seems real enough, and she doesn’t have that same warm, fuzzy feeling she does when she’s drunk). The third thing she notices is Byleth, sitting at the dining table next to three heart-shaped pancakes, spread out on three different plates.

“Manuela!” She jumps up, arms already outstretched for a hug.

“Byleth! I missed you so much, dear!” She practically flings herself across the (unbelievably clean) room to hug her. “You cleaned my apartment while I was gone? Oh, you absolute angel! You two are too sweet! And you made me pancakes? Oh, I could just kiss you!”

“You could?” She sounds almost hopeful. “Manuela, I-“

“Yes. May I?”

Byleth beams, her smile the widest and most brilliant Manuela has ever seen. “Yes, yes, of course!”

Then they’re kissing, and Manuela isn’t quite sure who started it first, but she is sure that this was a long, long, time coming, and she can’t believe she didn’t do this sooner. “I love you, Byleth. I should have told you ages ago! But I didn’t quite realize it myself.”

Byleth makes a few unintelligible noises, halfway between disbelief and joy, and then she kisses her again as an answer, and Manuela knows that she’s saying “I love you too.”


	10. Chapter 10

Manuela is the first to wake up. She wanted to sleep in, but rehab has gotten her used to getting up early, and so she does, yawning and stretching. 

At least, she thought she was the first one awake, but that’s soon disproved when she realizes that Byleth is staring at her, eyes wide and a small smile on her face.

“Good morning,” Manuela smiles, and Byleth answers her with a peck on the lips.

“Good morning.”

Seteth makes a tired, grumpy sort of noise that turns quite pleased when he remembers where he is. “Good morning,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss first to Byleth’s hair, then leaning forward to leave one on Manuela’s forehead.

“I’ve never seen you sleep in this late. Did we keep you up too long?” Manuela laughs. 

“I am not accustomed to staying up so late, no,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound too cross. “But I do not regret it. However, let’s not make this a habit…”

“He likes going to bed early,” Byleth giggles, reaching back to pat his head. “Poor Seteth. We should let him sleep.”

“Yes, I think so too.” Manuela tucks some of his hair behind his ear. “We’ll be quiet, darling.”

“No need to trouble yourself on my account,” he murmurs, and he sighs, relaxing against her touch. 

“Hm.” She’s quiet for a moment. “You know, I think I’m going back to medical school. I’m done with opera.”

“You what?” Seteth’s voice is sleepy, his eyes still half-lidded.

“I had a pretty good run while it lasted, but… I want to go out on top. I’m getting older. There’s no denying that. My voice won’t last forever. And I’ve already been gone a few months. It just… it feels right to say goodbye now.” 

“A fair point,” he nods. “Perhaps you and Flayn…” He yawns mid-sentence. “Should study together.”

“That’s right. She is going into medical school, isn’t she? That’s not a half bad idea.”

“You’ll be a great doctor,” Byleth smiles. 

“Thank you, dear.” 

There’s a new sound to the word “dear” now, a subtle but definitely present hint of affection. Byleth is basking in it.

Seteth makes a sort of noncommittal grunt, unsure whether he’d rather stay awake or go back to sleep, and Byleth turns back to kiss his nose. “We should let him sleep.”

“Mmhmm. I wouldn’t mind staying here for a while longer.”

“Manuela,” he grumbles, reaching across to place a hand on her waist (squeezing Byleth between them in the process), “I never thought I would say this, but I am glad that you summoned a demon.” He nuzzles Byleth affectionately. “Thank you for dragging me into this mess.”

“Aw, Seteth,” Manuela says with an impish smile. “Any time, darling. I’ll be sure to include you when I do it again.”

His eyes snap open. “Wait, what?”

For the first time, Byleth laughs, well and truly laughs.

She’s never been happier.


End file.
